


make this go on forever

by starryeyedauthor



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M, Friends Supporting Friends, Friendship, Love, Major character death - Freeform, Post 2x20, Riverdale, drinking cheap vodka on the floor, everyones suffering, im so sorry this is sad as HELL, matching tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-23
Updated: 2018-05-23
Packaged: 2019-05-10 09:25:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14734341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starryeyedauthor/pseuds/starryeyedauthor
Summary: (Post 2x20) In which Fangs is gone, and for a moment there, it feels like nothing will ever be the same.





	make this go on forever

You were running faster than you had ever ran before. Your muscles were aching, every breath coming out as a gasp as you sprinted through the town square, trying to get to the Sheriff's station as quickly as possible. Everything else was unfocused; a blur of the street lights reflecting off the wet concrete, obscure faces rushing by as you pushed past the crowd, frantically trying to catch sight of your family.

 

There was a roar in your ears, the sound of your heart pounding in your chest meshing with the deafening chants coming from the angry mob, loud voices spewing words of hate. 

 

You were growing desperate, not even apologizing as you pushed past people. A blur of red hair caught your eye and you paused breathlessly, catching sight of a few familiar leather jackets and rushing forward. 

 

A loud sound rang out and it was almost automatic the way everyone immediately screamed, stopping everything and lowering themselves in terror. It took a minute for you realize it was a gunshot, and fear bloomed inside of you. You didn’t hide or start scrambling away like everyone else, you headed closer to the source, a new feeling of terror creeping up inside you, your hands shaking with tension.  _ It’s not him. It’s not him. It’s not him.  _

 

When your eyes finally found his, the sight made your stomach drop completely. A noise of anguish escaped your mouth as you watched him fall backwards, blood spilling from the wound in his abdomen, Jughead and Sweet Pea lowering him to the ground as the crowd continued screaming.

 

“No,” You breathed out, eyes wide in disbelief before you were propelling forwards, dropping to your knees and scrambling as close as you could. 

 

Sweet Pea was looking over your shoulder, a storm growing in his eyes as you continued repeating your words, grabbing onto Fangs’ hand and clutching it tightly. You could hear Jughead screaming for help and you watched FP take off, pushing through the crowd without hesitation as the rest of you tried to stop the blood. 

 

It kept coming, staining everything in sight, the crimson color saturating your hands and shirt as you shook your head rapidly, trying to keep yourself together.

“Y/N,” Fangs croaked, breathing heavily as he stared down at the blood in shock, all of you exchanging looks of fear.

 

“I’m here, I’m here,” You murmured, blinking back tears and looking around quickly, hoping to find FP with some form of assistance, all the faces around you staring at the boy you loved. 

 

“I don’t want to die,” Fangs breathed out for the second time tonight, a fact unknown to you, the words chipping away at your heart and bringing a painful ache to your chest. 

 

“You’re not going to die,” Sweet Pea bit out sharply, his eyes hardening as he stared down at his best friend, tightening his grip on his other hand. “It’s not fucking happening, you hear me Fangs? You’re not allowed to go anywhere, not tonight. Not like this.” 

 

Fangs breath was coming shorter and heavier and you slid closer, the weight on your chest growing as your hands shook uncontrollably. “You’re going to be fine, Fangs. I promise. Nothing’s going to happen to you. We have all those plans, remember?” 

 

“The road trip… Just you and me, Y/N.” Fangs huffed, blinking rapidly towards the sky before bringing his mahogany eyes to yours. 

 

“Just you and me,” You confirmed, giving him a watery smile and leaning forward to stroke his cheek gently, using the back of your knuckles, the only inch of skin not coated in his blood. “We’re going to drive away from here this summer. We’re going to try weird food and sing in the car and take photos for everyone else. We’re going to get out of here Fangs,  _ I promise. _ ” 

 

You were swallowing back your tears, forcing your voice to a serious and stern pitch, trying to convey your emotions to him. That he couldn’t do this. He couldn’t leave, he couldn’t disappear in the blink of an eye. 

 

A loud honking made all of you jump, the crowd parting as FP’s truck ripped through the space, his hand glued to the horn as he kept pushing down, letting the piercing sound scare the crowd into moving.  

 

You all dove up faster than you had ever moved, carefully pulling Fangs up and into the truck before tearing out of the parking lot, everyone piling into the truck and hoping to whatever it was that you believed in -some universal presence in the sky, a twisted form of fate that had put a bullet in the boy with the kindest heart- desperately pleading for him to make it through this, your hand intertwined with his tightly the entire drive. 

 

* * *

**11:04 PM**

 

The waiting room was filled with leather jackets and metal jewellry, everyone crowding the room and waiting for news on their brother. 

 

You had received more shoulder squeezes and pats on the back than you could count, standing against the wall, claiming the spot closest to the hallway in hopes of overhearing anything about Fangs. 

 

They had pulled him into surgery as soon as you had all arrived, so quick that you didn’t even have a chance to say anything; he had squeezed your hand, eyes wide with fear and you had leaned down and pressed a kiss against his cheek. 

 

Then you had watched, nails digging into your skin as they rushed him away, calling out for other doctors and pushing through a large set of doors. 

 

You had stood in that exact spot, watching as the doors swung back and forth, watching as Fangs grew smaller, moving further and further away from you. 

* * *

 

 

**12:31 AM**

 

Jughead asked for an update and no one had any answers. All the chairs were filled with the people you called family, and every so often you caught a whisper, plans of revenge already sprouting in everyone's minds. When you heard someone say the words, “If Fogarty doesn’t make it,” You tensed against the wall, shutting your eyes tightly and closing your hands into fists when they trembled. 

 

You wanted to snap. You wanted to yell that he wasn’t dead. That he was alive, and he was going to be okay, because he was Fangs. You were going to see his soft brown eyes again, you were going to hear his laugh; the way it grew higher when he was taken aback, like all the times you had surprised him and sounds of amusement had spilled out of his mouth, joy and pride filling you to the brim because making him laugh was one of your favorite things in the world. 

 

You didn’t say any of those things. You kept standing against the wall, and you waited. 

 

* * *

 

**1:21 AM**

 

Sweet Pea started yelling. You knew this was coming, every single one of you. You were in the same spot against the wall, an ache in your knees as you continued to shake off everyones concern. You bit back harsh words, continuing to hold onto your silence, finding a twisted sense of comfort in the way the words stayed trapped in your throat _. My boyfriend has a bullet in his abdomen, my discomfort shouldn’t mean a damn thing. _

 

“Will someone just fucking tell us something?!” Sweet Pea thundered, eyes flashing with what you knew was violent grief, his emotions clawing their way into his word, raw and biting, like he had been split open inside.  

 

“What kind of fucking hospital is this? Just tell us that Fangs is-” 

 

The anger in his words was enough to make the nurse flinch, and FP quickly interjected, pushing Sweet Pea backwards, leaning upwards to whisper hurried words into his ear.

 

You heard quiet sniffles and you could tell Toni was crying beside you; you watched from the corner of your eye as Jughead tucked her into his side, both of them refusing to sit when you were leaning against the wall by yourself. 

 

Everyone was still watching when FP sighed heavily, stepping back and letting Sweet Pea storm past him in a set of angry strides.

 

And even then, you were silently taking all of it in, the bang of a trash can being kicked across the hallway, Sweet Pea’s fist slamming into the wall in a swift motion, his anger red hot like the blood on his hands.  

 

The noise was so loud that it made you flinch, and for a minute you were right back in the crowd. Ducking down when the sound of a gunshot echoed through the air; pushing through bodies and watching Fangs stumble backwards. Watching his life drip onto the concrete. 

 

It was all you had done tonight, and it was all you would continue to do.

 

* * *

**2:02 AM**

 

“There were some complications during the surgery.”

 

His words made your heart sink, and your mouth fell open, a shaky breath spilling from your lips as your grip on Toni’s hand tightened. 

 

You tried to keep your focus, but everything was a blur and you could feel this heavy weight in the air. You could feel it, looking into the blue eyes of a stranger, the hesitant sadness lingering, the low and careful murmur to his words. The way he folded his hands together, every medical term followed by another, words you couldn’t get your mind to latch onto. _ “Blood pressure was low upon arrival… Damage to the liver and gallbladder… Unfortunately the leaking caused peritonitis… Alarmingly quickly.”  _

 

You blinked rapidly, tilting your head in confusion as your heart raced in your chest. Your face was growing warm and you were beginning to feel restlessly dizzy. You wanted to yell at the doctor to stop speaking, to just take you to Fangs because it had been too long since you had last felt the warmth of his skin and you just needed to hear his voice already. 

 

“Despite our best efforts...” He murmured, shaking his head with sympathetic eyes. 

 

You could hear everyone's words of disbelief and you watched, eyes wide and your chest suddenly heaving as the doctor apologized. “I’m so sorry for your loss.” 

 

“No,” You blurted out, only a whisper in the chaotic presence of the room, emotions spilling over the edge. 

 

“No,” You repeated louder, shaking your head furiously and glaring at the doctor, disbelief suddenly rushing in like a wave, as if a part of you was trying helplessly to stay sane.  _ “Where is Fangs?”  _

 

Toni was sobbing softly, clutching onto your arm and trying to pull your attention from the doctor but you shook her off, glancing upwards at Sweet Pea in confusion, watching the tears spilling down his cheeks, his expression utterly blank.  

 

“What are you-  _ No _ ,” You repeated in denial, the loud shrillness of your voice piercing the room, eyes drifting towards you in solicitude. 

 

“Where is he?!” You asked, voice breaking as you stepped towards the doctor, eyes wild and pleading and as your words rushed together. “Take me to Fangs, I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you, just take me to him,  _ please _ .” 

 

You could barely recognize your voice and the doctor exchanged words with FP, cautiously eyeing you before he led the two of you away from the crowd. Relief filled you as you sucked in a short breath, furthering yourself from the sounds of everyones grief.  _ He’s fine,  _ you told yourself.  _ Fangs is fine. _

 

* * *

 

 

**2:13 AM**

 

You barely noticed you were moving, and suddenly you stood outside a heavy grey door. You glanced at the handle and then back at FP and the doctor with his sorrowful blue eyes. You noticed that FP looked afraid, and it was the first time you had seen that expression on his face, waves of heartbreak swimming behind tired brown hues. 

 

You turned away, wrapping your fingers around the cold handle of the door and stepping into the room, your whole body awake with anticipation, eager to see your boyfriends soft smile, the need to clutch onto his hands stronger than ever. 

 

When you opened the door and stepped into the room, eyes drifting to the bed, your entire body froze, dread filling you when you saw the body on the bed, a sheet covering a familiar form. 

 

Someones hands were on your shoulders, carefully helping you step aside as you watched, standing still once again as the sheet was lowered. 

 

And there he was. 

 

The face that had pressed kisses against your cheek just this morning, stubble and the feeling of his smile against your skin coaxing sleepy giggles out of you. That same face looking nothing like it had, all those days you had gazed at his features, falling further and further into warm tinted eyes and a broad careless smile.

 

“Fangs…” You heard yourself whisper, your whole body trembling, your gaze stuck on his form on the bed.

 

You forced yourself to look away, blinking harshly, trying to wake yourself up. Trying to force yourself back into this morning, back into his strong arms and gravelly voice, the sound of him calling you his sweet girl. 

 

Your whole face crumpled, a sound you could hardly recognize escaping you, his name intertwined between your sounds of anguish. “Fangs,” You wailed, your hand coming up to your face as you tried to muffle your sobs. 

 

“No, no, no,” You were repeating, lowering your face into your hands, trying to escape the sight of him on the bed, pale, and still, void of the person you had fallen in love with.

 

You could feel a hand on your shoulders and you crumpled, a scream loud and guttural wrenching through your body, disbelief coursing through you as your mind flashed with memories. “No, no, Fangs.” 

 

Fangs kissing you for the first time. Fangs stumbling over his words when he asked you to be his. Fangs fighting with you, shouting at each other in the trailer. Making up in a tangle of heat and lips on skin, whispers of each others name. Fangs collapsing into Jughead and Sweet Pea. Fangs whispering that he didn’t want to die. _ Fangs, Fangs, Fangs.  _

 

* * *

The funeral arrived and enough people spoke that it was clear just who Fangs was; loyal and soft and fiercely full of love. Far from the accusations people of the Northside had tried to bury him in. 

 

Yet there you were, burying him anyways. 

 

You didn’t give a speech. It fucking killed you, the thought that followed, but it was true all the same; that Fangs knew how much you loved him. You had whispered the words in the moments that mattered, under the rising sun in the morning. Into the bronze skin of his shoulders. You had said the words every time you smiled into his kisses, every time you drove down long roads with your hair flying, arms wrapped tightly around his waist.

 

Everyone that mattered knew how much you loved each other. And that was all that you could bring yourself to care about, in all your cold stone faced refusal to fall to pieces in front of people who hardly knew him. 

 

You could feel the need radiating off Sweet Pea, the desire to unleash his grief in a flurry of movements, knuckles covered in brass and waiting to turn into hues of black and purple. Toni and Jughead latched onto him, pulling him backwards. They were pulling him back into his grief and his shoulders shook, but you stared ahead wordlessly, the casket in front of you filling your chest with the ache that hadn’t ceased to torture you, not even for one moment. 

 

And you watched, as Fangs was lowered into the ground, realizing the feeling hadn’t left. The feeling of sprinting into a crowd, where everything was a loud roar you couldn't decipher. Where you couldn’t catch your breath, and your chest felt like it was caving in.

 

It feels like it’ll go on forever now. It feels like you’ll never catch your breath again. 

 

* * *

 

The people you loved, the people you had called family for years all try to be there in their own ways.

 

FP and some others organized the memorial, only meant for those on the Southside. The doors of the Wyrm were propped open by chairs, the space filled with people celebrating Fangs and the life he had lived. It may have seemed unconventional; getting drunk and telling stories from years ago, hazy smoke and tales intertwining in the air. Every so often loud roars of laughter filled the space, everyone talking about the serpent who could always keep his cool. The way Fangs was terrible at pool but never turned down a game, the way he had held his composure during initiation, determined to make it through and call this gang of misfits his family. 

 

In true serpent fashion, every damn person in the room bought a drink for you, handing you shot after shot, clapping you on the shoulder and drunkenly reminding you just how much Fangs adored you. 

 

You weren’t ready to hear any of it, and your hands shook when you brought glasses filled to the brim up to your lips, downing shot after shot, hoping to lose yourself in the bitter sting of alcohol. 

 

No one stopped you because everyone was doing the same thing; Toni, Jughead, Sweet Pea. You were all leaning against each other by the end of the night, drowning your sorrows in Fangs’ favorite whiskey, trying to ignore just how clear it is that one of you were missing. 

 

Trying to ignore the large gap in the group; the loss of his quiet chuckles and swift quips. The stability he brought to your family, abruptly taken away, leaving everything painfully unsteady.

 

You couldn’t tell if it was the alcohol or your heartbreak, but you felt it in every bone weary movement you made. The absence of his existence that made everything off balance, the room spinning till your vision went black.

 

* * *

 

When Jughead came to see you, he was solemn and factual, the same way he always was, but with haunted eyes and a different sort of frown on his face, deep set and full of regret.

 

You were curled up on the floor of Fangs’ trailer and he quietly told you that Mrs. Klump had been arrested the night of the riots. Your mind flashed over the events again and he had trailed off when you shuddered, waiting a few moments before telling you that this was good, that Fangs’ killer had been apprehended. 

 

He had sat on the floor with you for hours, until you had fallen asleep with swollen eyes, wrapped up in the fabric of a familiar sweater. Even then he had stayed, not too close, yet somehow still near enough, as if he was trying to tell you in his own grim way that you weren’t alone. 

 

Toni was there the next day, a large box full of photos balanced in her small arms. “From my photography phase,” She murmured quietly, eyes sad as she curled up on the couch next to you. 

 

“I remember this,” You murmured, your voice scratchy from a lack of use. “Everyone was so sick of being photographed but Fangs never minded.” 

 

“I’m in my prime, of course I want Toni to capture these moments,” Toni mimicked him, lowering her voice with a watery laugh. 

 

A huff of amusement escaped your lips but it was quickly followed by a sharp ache, eyes catching sight of a photo that made your eyes fill with tears.

 

It was a photo of you and Fangs sitting at the Wyrm, chairs pushed right next to each other. Toni had used her ability to move without a sound to her advantage. Neither of you had known she had even stepped away from the serpents, too wrapped up in each other. 

 

Your head was tilted back as you had been laughing at Fangs’ drunken insistence that the two of you should go to Sweetwater River and go skinny dipping, trying to wriggle away from his arms with a bright grin. He had nuzzled his face into your neck, arms wrapped around your waist as he pressed a flurry of kisses against your skin. 

 

The tears dripped off your cheeks for the first time since the funeral, and Toni didn’t say a word, just quietly grabbing onto your hand and squeezing gently. 

 

You went through the photos for the rest of the night, falling asleep on the couch for the fourth time that week, hands clutching onto your favorite photo.

 

Fangs, clad in a newly patched leather jacket, standing in front of his motorcycle with a proud grin. The sun was on his face and his eyes were shining with happiness, directed at the girl standing a few steps away from the camera, right where you had stood and watched with a soft smile.

 

* * *

 

Through all the visits and well intentioned attempts at giving you a reprieve from your grief, Sweet Pea was the only one who never showed up. The feelings of shame and guilt had almost made you sick, knowing that Fangs would have been so disappointed if he knew that his best friend was just as shattered as you, and still you couldn’t bring yourself to step out of the trailer, away from every memory you were desperately clutching onto. 

 

Days later, when you heard heavy steps entering through the front door of the trailer, you had glanced up from where you were curled up on the floor, clutching a cheap bottle of vodka with wary eyes. 

 

You were expecting FP to come in with the news that it was time to empty out the space, and you were fully prepared to scream at the top of your lungs and throw a fit of rage and unfiltered grief. You had never been like this, so uncaring and angry at the world, but you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Right now everything hurt, and it was all you could focus on.  

 

Instead of an uncomfortable leader, you were greeted by the sight of Sweet Pea, a purple bruise decorating his eye and a matching cut on the corner of his mouth. He slowed to a stop when he found you sitting on the living room floor, slowly meeting your gaze with red eyes swimming in tears. You felt something inside of you break and you swallowed, breaking eye contact and trying to choke down the sadness that was rising up.

 

Neither of you said anything as he collapsed onto the floor next of you, taking in the unopened bedroom door a few feet away with a mournful expression. 

 

You handed him the bottle and he didn’t hesitate, taking a large swig and scrunching up his face at the harsh sting of vodka.

 

“God, I fucking miss him already.” 

 

The words were quiet and broken but you heard them all the same, Sweet Pea’s voice hoarse with emotion, the sound heavy and unfamiliar to you. You had never heard his voice so raw and full of disbelief, and it was strange, knowing just how terrible he felt inside. It was like there was a mirror between the two of you, reflecting every feeling of pain. 

 

Silently bringing your knees up to your chest, you rested your cheek on them, watching as he angrily blinked back tears, shakily setting the bottle down. 

 

“I can’t even remember the last thing he said to me,” You finally uttered, staring ahead with unfocused eyes, your mind growing hazy as you mentally went over every detail for the millionth time. 

 

Sweet Pea swallowed harshly, glancing away from you slowly, his movements free of the anger that he had been drowning in, likely a result of whatever meaningless fight he had channeled his rage into. 

 

“They want me to coax you out of here,” He admitted, bring a hand to his face and rubbing harshly, trying to push down the urge to lose his shit, the way that being in Fangs’ trailer was tugging at all his splintered edges. 

 

“They want me to tell you he would hate this. Seeing you like this,” He muttered, a dark sense of irony covering his words. “That it would kill him, knowing you were spending all your time on his living room floor, shutting everyone out.”

 

You stilled completely, and then a hot wave of anger was flooding your senses propelling you upwards and off the cold floor. “He’s already dead,” You bit out lowly, grabbing the empty bottle and stomping away, stumbling into the kitchen in an attempt to close the conversation. 

 

You could hear Sweet Pea following you and you came to a stop at the sink, clutching onto the counter and leaning your head downwards as your face crumpled, the dam that you kept working to build breaking once again. 

 

“Listen to me, Y/N.” Sweet Pea pleaded, running a hand through his hair and clenching his jaw. “We can’t just let you… Fuck-” 

 

His voice was wrecked and you turned around, needing to face him when you said the words on the tip of your tongue, spilling out as uncontrollably as your tears. 

 

“He was my home,” You wept, bringing your hand to your mouth and shakily breathing out, trying to keep your voice even. 

 

“He was my home, Sweet Pea. And now he’s in the ground, and I’m still here,” Your voice broke multiple times but you pushed through, breathing heavily through the broken sobs that were quickly rising up.

 

“What am I supposed to do!? What am I supposed to do without Fangs?” You asked desperately, your chest heaving with shaky breaths. “Everything he wanted to do… We were supposed to do  _ together _ . We made all those plans because Fangs wanted to live, and get out of this town and be more than what the fucking Northsiders saw us as.” 

 

Sweet Pea was succumbing to tears as well, shaking his hand rapidly and wiping at his face, watching you break down with an expression of defeat and hopelessness.

 

“He was supposed to be okay. He was supposed to come out smiling and making stupid jokes, but he-” You cut yourself off and sobbed brokenly, covering your face and pushing yourself through, trying to get the words out, trying to make your mind understand that he was gone. “He just died.” 

 

Sweet Pea seemed to give into what he knew his best friend would’ve wanted him to do; stepping forward in a set of strides and pulling you into his arms, holding on tightly even as you shook your head and tried to pull away, broken cries spilling from your lips. 

 

After a few moments you gave up, falling into him and sobbing into his jacket, clutching onto the leather material and aching for a different set of arms, a different scent, the rumble of a quiet soothing voice that wasn’t there anymore. 

 

Sweet Pea didn’t know what to say, and for a few minutes he was quiet. But when the words finally came, they were much more than anything you were expecting. 

 

“Just you and me,” Sweet Pea murmured when you had calmed down, no longer breathing erratically, listening to the despondence lingering over his words. “That’s what he said, before he was… Before he wasn’t talking.” 

 

You froze and pulled away, peering up at him with your eyes swimming in tears as you latched onto his words, your heart racing in your chest as the moment came back to you. 

 

“He was looking at you, and he said it. ‘The road trip... Just you and me, Y/N.’” 

 

* * *

 

It doesn’t go away. 

 

The feeling of missing him, that is. For a while you still find yourself stepping into rooms and immediately searching for him, and every single time the sharp ache of disappointment floods back in, like waves of water coming back to kiss the sand, always pulling back but never really leaving. 

 

There are days where every little thing goes wrong and you just want to hear his voice and curl up in his arms again. And it hurts so much that you feel like you can’t go on. Yet every time you find yourself crumbling, one of the serpents are there to help you back up. 

 

It’s like an entirely new epiphany; that the serpents are your family, just like they were his, and they miss him all the same. Sometimes you break down and cry, and sometimes Sweet Pea does. Other days it’s Toni, and on rare occasions Jughead shares the guilt he carries with him, trembling hands nervously adjusting his beanie. 

 

Those are the days you all go on long motorcycle rides, finding the closest sunset and telling stories until it’s dark. And you stay together until the next day, until it doesn't hurt as bad and you’re all smiling over the person you loved.

 

It’s a long process, one with more steps backwards then forwards. But eventually you wake up, and you find that you’ve healed enough to finish planning the summer road trip that Fangs had been so damn excited about, a need to finish the trip for him more prominent than anything else.  

 

You’ve packed up your belongings and you’re loading up the little used car you had worked so hard to save up for. It’s been checked out by multiple people on the Southside, deemed safe enough to drive for the summer, and the sight of your friends all leaning against it makes a soft smile light up your face. 

 

“There she is,” Jughead announced, quirking a brow at you teasingly and stepping away from the front door. 

 

“What, you all took time out of your day just to come say goodbye to me?” You asked in mock surprise, tossing the last bag into the trunk and slamming it shut, wiping the slight dust off your hands and facing your friends with a grin. 

 

“Who knows if you’ll even come back,” Sweet Pea teased, throwing an arm over your shoulder and grinning at the gauze covering your arm, the matching tattoo the four of you had gotten still healing, dark ink marking each of you in honor of Fangs. “I’m still pretty sure you’re running out on us for good.” 

 

“I’ll be back by the end of the summer,” You reminded, rolling your eyes and smiling when Toni bounded forward to wrap you up in a hug. 

 

“Since I’m graciously letting you borrow my camera, I expect lots of photos,” Toni murmured, giving you one last squeeze before pulling back slightly, meeting your eyes with a sweet smile. “Take care of yourself girl. Come back to us when you’re ready.” 

 

You hugged Jughead and Sweet Pea as well before taking a deep breath, glancing at the trailer you were leaving behind and stepping into the car, feeling light and heavy all at once.  

 

You started the engine and your friends were waving goodbye when Sweet Pea bent down, setting his hand on the roof as he leaned into the window to get in one last word. 

 

“He’d love this, you know,” He murmured, a gleam in his eyes that neither of you mentioned, probably mirrored in your own nostalgic expression. “That you’re still doing this. God, he’d be fucking proud.” 

 

You laughed shakily and wiped at the corners of your eyes, glancing at the empty seat beside you, holding the list of places Fangs had made all that time ago, his little doodles decorating the margins.  _ FF + Y/N L/N.  _

 

“Yeah, he would,” You murmured, your heart aching with love and longing, every part of you knowing this trip was what you needed. And it was strange how that worked; how Fangs was gone but he was still lifting you up, everything he had planned helping you get back on your feet. Helping you find out who you were without him, far from the town that had taken so much away from all of you. 

 

Sweet Pea squeezed your shoulder before slapping the roof of the car, and with that you were gazing at your friends, memorizing the smiles on their faces before taking off, ready to experience the unknown. Two whole months on the road, all the money you and Fangs had saved up finally coming to use. 

 

You left the windows down and the music playing loud, your hair blowing around wildly. And even with the feeling in your chest, dulled to something warmer and reminiscent, you let yourself smile, thinking of the boy with the mahogany eyes and broad careless smile. 

 

“Just you and me,” You murmured quietly, a warm breeze brushing through your hair. 

 

_ Just you and me.  _

**Author's Note:**

> hello! so i just want to put this out there: i started writing this after watching 2x20 (and then 2x21) when we were led to believe that fangs was definitely dead. i was super emotional over the lack of real lines and screen time and justice for his character, so this is pretty much the sad morbid post death story i think fangs would've deserved, had he actually died. thank goodness he's alive though.


End file.
